Joyce traced the mark that now covered her skin. What’d begun as a single character at the base of her throat soon morphed into a moon-shaped design that spread across her chest. The size would have bothered her if Kede didn’t sport something similar. And they matched, Kede unwilling to present Joyce as anything less than he.
You are stronger than any other I have known. You fought for yourself and I know you will fight for our young. You may not accept the title, but you are a warrior my harae, and you will be recognized as such.
He said the words with a tone that told her he meant business.
Which was how they each wore both their names as they stood in the center of the Vehly’s largest cargo hold. It’d been cleared for this meeting. Shuttles were relocated, piles of supplies and other necessities were redistributed, which left this space open for their use.
A thousand warriors already occupied the space and yet if someone were listening, they wouldn’t know the room was filled. No one shuffled or shifted, there was no telltale brush of cloth on cloth as someone twitched. There were no coughs or sniffles. Hell, she wondered if they breathed.
She and Kede stood at the edge of a large circle in the center of the space, the males in attendance forming a bare ring. From there, it seemed as if the warriors built stadium seating, each row slightly higher than the next.
Her mind drifted to ancient Terran history, to the stories of the coliseum and the deaths, which were enjoyed by the crowd. She really hoped something like that didn’t happen today. Like, really hoped.
Kede squeezed her hand, the soft pressure reassuring her of his strong presence. Other trusted Doshans also flirted with the edge of the circle. They’d remain in place unless needed and it’d be to everyone’s benefit if the warriors weren’t called into action.
The hiss of cargo hold doors opening drew everyone’s attention and then the males parted, creating a Doshan corridor. The group filed into the center area, first the Doshan councilmen, then the Terran representatives that’d been on board yesterday, and finally a group she didn’t recognize. The beings ranged in size, shape, and color from short and blue to tall and purple.
The Planetary Coalition reps.
The moment Councilman Dickhead spied her, he launched into releasing orders no one in the cargo hold had any intention of following.
“Detain her. Where are the bindings? I want this female restrained.”
Joyce happily noticed his jaw was still darkened by the bruise she’d given him days ago. She’d forgotten she’d gone after the man, but it was obvious there wasn’t a single medico willing to repair him.
Good. A bitchy thought, but it wasn’t one she was about to suppress.
“That is quite enough, Doshan Riskz. You are not in the position to make demands.” The purple guy spoke, his voice soft and words slow, but everyone listened. Everyone. It was almost a whisper, and yet a bolt of fear struck her.
That guy, for all his lithe and careful movements, was scary as a motherfucker.
Dickhead snapped his mouth shut, but he continued to glare at her, hate in his gaze. If she cried every time she found out someone hated her, she’d always have tears leaking from her eyes.
Wardsen stepped forward, obviously not realizing he needed to fear for his own ass. “Then I want her in cuffs.” Wardsen snapped his fingers at one of the Terran military males. “Do it.”
“And you, Terran Wardsen, are in no position to even speak.” Again, gentle and slow and scary.
“She belongs—”
One moment purple guy was on one side of the circle and then he was on the other, his hand inside the director’s chest.
In. Side.
There was no massive wound, no tearing of flesh and bone. No, purple guy’s forearm seemed to become a part of Wardsen’s body, merging with his.
Kede leaned down to her. “He is of the Ailone. They are a peaceful people unless they are challenged.”
Peaceful. Right.
Wardsen gasped and fought for air and Joyce wondered if the Ailone gripped the director’s heart or lungs. He had pretty big hands, so maybe both.
“The Ailone does not allow orders in his presence. No movement will be made toward the female. His words are his bond. Do you hear them?”
Kede stiffened and edged nearer to her.
She tore her attention from the rapidly nodding director and to her harau. “Kede?”
“He is the Ailone. The.”
“I don’t understand—” She cut off her statement with a squeak and a jump, hopping backward.
Because there he was. The Ailone was before her and she let her gaze stray to his hand, the one that’d been buried in Director Wardsen’s chest. Huh. Not a drop of blood.
“No, female, there would not be blood unless I wished there to be so. I do not, so there is not.” The Ailone whispered to her and of course her thoughts drifted in some inappropriate direction.
Such as, she wondered if all aliens talked in such a stilted way or if it was just Terrans who were the weird ones.
The Ailone chuckled. “A bit of both, female. A bit of both. Come now.” He extended his hand toward her, and Kede twitched. She knew he fought the urge to wrap her in his arms and race away, but they’d stepped onto this path. They had to follow it now. “That is correct, female. What was put into motion must now continue.” The Ailone turned his attention to her harau. “She will come to no harm, Doshan Tria, but you may accompany us.”
With that, she was drawn forward, her left hand enveloped by the Ailone’s and Kede lurking at her right.
“Lurking is an excellent word, female. We shall add it to our collection.”
That was totally fine as long as a dead Joyce wasn’t added to his collection.
The Ailone chuckled. At least, she thought that’s what the sound represented. She also realized the purple guy could read minds. Right. Hands go into chests without drawing blood and mind reading. Two things that would have been helpful to know yesterday. She shot a glare at Kede. If they made it out of this alive, she was kicking his ass. All of them, she would kick everyone else’s asses as well.
Big old ball of hatefire powered ass kickings.
Still making those huffing noises, he drew them to a stop beside the rest of the hodge podge of aliens.
“You have many words to share, female. We will enjoy hearing them when this annoyance is no more.”
Female. Female. She was more than a vagina dammit.
More of those huffs. “Doshan Tria, we will share a meal with you when we conclude our business.”
“Ailone, you cannot mean to—” Oh, Councilman Haspava should have kept his trap shut. The Ailone’s expression hardened, his skin rippling and slithering as if some other force lurked within his flesh. He turned his attention to Haspava and the male snapped his mouth shut.
“We mean to do as we please. The facts will unfold, the coalition will weigh judgment and then we shall take a meal.”
The Ailone released Joyce and she leaned against Kede, taking comfort in his touch.
Wardsen obviously hadn’t learned his lesson because he plowed ahead and spoke to the Ailone. “We’d like to present our facts and then you can see that Joyce should return to Terra.”
“Your facts?”
Joyce didn’t need to be a mind reader to know that just pissed the Ailone off. Big time.
“Yes, Commander Tria abducted—”
“Terran Wardsen, you will stop and rethink your facts. The Planetary Coalition has very specific punishments for lies. Spouting untruths to the Ailone has deadly consequences,” the purple male warned.
The director quieted for a moment and Joyce knew exactly what the man was about to do. He’d pervert events to paint Terra in the best light. They wouldn’t directly be lies, but they wouldn’t be quite accurate, either.
The Ailone met her gaze, a look of understanding on his, well, face she supposed. An expression that seemed to tell her he knew what was about to happen. Knew it and could look past it.
Then Wardsen launched into his version of events. Of Joyce’s kidnapping, Martins’ attempt to “save” her, and subsequently Martins’ death of unknown causes.
Right.
“You claim to not know the cause behind the Terran Martins’ death? That is your truth?” Ooh, purple guy looked ready to dig back in a chest.
“Of course, I don’t know,” he blustered.
Plausible deniability. He didn’t know how it worked so how could he know the cause of death?
Movement to her right snared her attention and she watched Sampson stroll toward the center of the circle. His steps were quiet, movements careful, and it took a while for the director to spot him.
But then Wardsen did and he blanched, all blood leaving his face. “You’re-you’re-you’re…” He pointed at Sampson and the black-eyed male grinned in response.
Joyce turned her attention to the Ailone, waiting for his reaction and the alien seemed more annoyed than pissed. Yay? At least no one on their side would die. Well, yet.
“Ailone? Catch.” Sampson tossed something at the purple alien and the room held its breath. The Ailone had already shown his strength and impatience. Was he gonna rip out Sampson’s heart?
Nope. The male simply plucked it from the air and held it before Wardsen’s gaze. “Do you see this truth, Terran Wardsen? Our people were able to retrieve this from within Doshan Sampson.”
“That male is not a Doshan! We will not tolerate that disrespect.” Joyce winced at Riskz’s yell.
“And I will not tolerate your words.” Ailone glanced at the short blue alien. “Restrain his voice, please.”
She watched in frightened fascination as the blue alien placed something across Riskz’s lips and then the male’s mouth was… gone. Like, one second mouth and the next second, no mouth.
Joyce pressed her lips together, determined not to say anything out of turn. She’d already lost her tits and ass, she wasn’t going to lose the ability to talk, too.
“As we were saying. Terran Wardsen, do you recognize this? The device was removed from your first Terran ambassador. It is the belief that the item destroys the brain. What are your words?”
“I have no idea what that is,” the director protested. “And we were unaware of Sampson’s survival. We were told… What the fuck?”
Her thoughts echoed the director’s words. Once again the Ailone’s hand disappeared into Wardsen’s body, sliding through the flesh like a hot knife and butter. Body was the wrong word. Head. The Ailone’s hand went into Wardsen’s head.
When the Ailone withdrew, Wardsen tripped over himself as he fought to scramble away.
“The Terran technology is now, once again, inside a Terran. The female does not belong to Terra. He may be removed and returned to his planet.” The Ailone turned to her. “We would rid you of the device, female.”
Joyce swallowed past her fear and even brushed off Kede’s. Admittedly, it was probably dangerous as hell to have anyone digging around in her brain, but she did want it gone. She didn’t want that threat hovering over them. But… She placed a palm over her stomach and the Ailone drew closer.
He placed his hand atop hers. “It will do no harm. My vow as the Ailone.”
“Kede…”
She sensed her harau’s indecision, but he finally nodded. “It would be welcome, Ailone.”
A gentle pressure surrounded her mind, the sensation odd, but not unwelcome and she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see anyone’s hand inside her head any more than she’d wanted to see it inside Wardsen’s. Because… gross.
In a handful of heartbeats, the heaviness eased and she opened her eyes. The Ailone’s large palm now cradled a small chip, so innocuous and innocent looking.
And it would have killed her.
“Would you like this, female, or do you wish it returned to Terra?”
“I…” More than anything, she wanted it buried in Wardsen’s brain along with the one from Sampson, but it was probably Terra’s most recent design. If the Doshans could examine it and their studies made removal possible for others… “I would like to retain it at this time, Ailone.”
“Very well.” He placed it in her palm and then his attention returned to the Terrans. “Is there a reason these males remain? You are to leave.”
“But,” Wardsen’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “You put… I’ll… Joyce is ours and…”
Kede took a step toward the director and she placed her hand on his arm, urging him to stop.
“The female holds many statuses, but none of them include Terra. You will return. She will remain. At this moment, Terra should feel fortunate it continues to exist. Tell your government the coalition will arrive within the turning to address their actions.”
Wardsen rubbed his head. “But if I go, I’ll…”
“You are correct.” Ailone focused on another male. “Tell your government.”
The man nodded and swallowed hard. “Y-y-es, sir.”
The Terran group was then escorted from their small circle, a hodge podge of aliens that obviously belonged to the coalition pushing them from the cargo hold.
The moment the doors whooshed shut, the Ailone turned toward the group as a whole. “Now we shall address the cloos-ter fek the Doshans have made with their race.” The Ailone looked to her. “I believe my pronunciation may have been slightly off.”
All eyes centered on Joyce and she swallowed, willing saliva into her mouth. “I think you’re looking for cluster fuck.”
“Yes. Cluster fuck. And I believe your harau would like me to remind all that it is not an invitation.”
Joyce closed her eyes and rested her head against Kede’s arm. Good. God.
“I’m sure he would,” she mumbled.
“Now that the easy judgment has been leveled, we will all hear the words of the Doshans.” The Ailone joined the group of various aliens and gestured to the blue guy. “Grant him speech.” Once Riskz had his lips back—weird—Ailone tilted his head to the left, toward the Doshan councilmen. “Doshan Riskz, you may begin.”
Riskz began. And began. And began some more. Joyce wondered if the old Doshan took a breath as he outlined exactly what she was and why she wasn’t Doshan and blah, blah, blah…
More than one member of the Planetary Coalition chuckled and she realized that—she mentally sighed—they could hear her thoughts. Or plucked them right out of her head. Regardless, they knew how annoyed she was by Riskz’s pompous rantings.
Eventually he wound down with a respectable two-year-old pout.
Joyce wasn’t Doshan even if she looked Doshan and her genetics said she was Doshan. The same went for any other genetically altered Terran and by the way, Sampson should immediately be ejected from the Doshan ship because he too, was not Doshan.
Pompous speciest pigs.
The Planetary Collective representatives remained attentive even though she sensed at least the Ailone’s annoyance with the councilman’s never-ending speech. When it finally seemed to come to a close, the group faced her and Kede.
“Doshan Tria, what are your beliefs? We would hear your truths.” The Ailone addressed her harau and she squeezed Kede’s hand.
She was there for him, at his side, for better, worse, health and death by alien chocolate.
Joyce’s touch gave Kede the strength to face the Planetary Collective. More importantly, he faced the Ailone. He was humbled the powerful ruler took an interest in their conflict. Humbled and fearful in equal measure.
With the way in which Sampson addressed the Ailone, he imagined there was a deeper story and connection between the males. Kede was thankful Sampson was on their side. At least, at the moment.
With a final squeeze to Joyce’s hand, he began.
He spoke and offered a prayer to whatever deity lingered near. He did not care if it was the Terran god who responded or the bright light itself. He would even pray to the darkness if it meant keeping Joyce safe and at his side.
“I admit to taking Joyce Enner Tria-se from the planet Terra. I was on the surface to choose an ambassador for my ship and I chose. I regret the method of her arrival on the Vehly, but I cannot regret her presence.” He fought for calm and allowed his mind to travel to those first days, the first weeks of her life onboard.
Then he allowed it to linger on her injuries.
“The cilotha nearly ended her life, but with an infusion of my blood, she survived and transitioned.” He took a calming breath, his thoughts pushing past the time after she’d discovered his actions and his failings kept them apart. “Even after her transition, several attempts were made to remove her from the Vehly. Then the councilmen and High Medico arrived and deemed her to not be Doshan. They would have returned her to Terra despite the evidence that she would perish upon her arrival on the planet’s surface.”
The Planetary Collective representatives all flashed looks of disgust at the Doshan group, causing each male to flinch beneath the weight of disapproval.
“They violated her medical files, her privacy, and visited physical damage to her body.”
The group’s disgust deepened.
“Their support for her non-Doshan status?” The short, blue, Neaf male voiced the question and Kede knew his answer would sway the man to his side.
The Neaf race had strict ideals regarding females and sexuality.
Especially public discussion of those private details.
“Neaf…” He did not know the male’s name.
“The name does not matter. Only the question.”
Kede tried to balance the truth with upsetting the Neaf representative. “The females in our race experience a maturity, which we call a Needing. At the time, she had not endured the event.” He paused. “It is an intimate desire for a male that lasts three days.”
The male’s blue changed to a muted pink, his anger visible for all to see. “They dared voice these words? Before how many?”
“Their own attendants numbered over two hundred warriors. My Security Commander can provide an accurate accounting, if you desire.”
The lighter color flushed bright and hot pink. The Neaf male was furious on his harae’s behalf. “Not necessary.”
The Ailone focused on him and the whispering voice entered his mind. “And now, Doshan Tria? Is that still the case?”
Kede shook his head, uncomfortable with the Ailone’s presence, but unable to push the male from his thoughts. “No, Ailone. The issue is resolved.”
The Ailone nodded. “Very well. In the matter of Female Joyce, she is deemed Doshan. All opposed?”
Not a single Planetary Collective representative voiced opposition.
Could it be that easy?
“You do not have the right—” Councilman Haspava quickly found himself without lips.
“We have the right because your actions brought us here. You asked for assistance and now you receive it. You hear our words and you abide by them or let your bright light help you. She is Doshan, she retains the protection of the Planetary Collective itself and the Neaf will rain disaster on your head should any harm come to her.” The Neaf snarled the words at the Doshan group and the group of males stilled in response to the explosive anger.
The Neaf were a peaceful people. Usually.
“Doshan Tria, are there other issues to present?” The Ailone reacted as if nothing were wrong.
“One issue though the warriors are unsure if the issue warrants collective consideration.” They’d discussed this. The representatives would probably want to hear their case, but the choice had to be theirs. The warriors could not presume to have the collective’s attention.
“We will hear your grievance. I believe it will make for interesting hearing.” The Ailone flashed his race’s smile, a subtle tightening of the skin surrounding his mouth. “Is this venue appropriate?”
“Yes, Ailone. It involves all warriors and is discussed with their approval.”
“All warriors?” The male seemed surprised and Kede could understand his shock. It was rare to gather such a large group and gain their support.
“Yes, Ailone, all warriors.”
“Very well, present your truth.”
Taking a deep breath, Kede released the words that’d lived in every warrior’s soul from the moment they understood what it was to be a warrior. When they realized what they would be required to do on behalf of Dosha and what they would receive in return. Or rather, would not receive.
It seemed as if no one breathed when he finished, when he ceased telling stories of his childhood and his training then finished with censored words about finding Joyce and joining with her.
He proudly displayed his markings, expressing her strength and the way her very presence encouraged the strongest males of their race desire more.
“And what would you have the collective do on your behalf?” The Ailone’s quiet voice rang in the silence.
“The Doshans have a choice, Ailone. They may choose to grant our caste equal representation, we will have a High Warrior to battle on our behalf, to make the laws that govern us and enforce those laws, or they will not have warriors. If that is their choice, Ailone, we request status.” With Kede’s final words, the quiet continued. Shock kept the Doshan representatives quiet, warrior training kept them noiseless and frozen in place, while the collective’s group stared at Kede with consideration.
“And if they relent and welcome a High Warrior, has your caste selected a warrior to battle for them?”
“Yes, Ailone. A vote was taken, each warrior making his wishes known. Only a member of the Planetary Collective may retrieve the results. It was our assurance that no subterfuge mars the selection.”
The Ailone nodded and turned to the Doshan group. Rage lurked in the gaze of each councilman, a promise of retribution in their expressions.
The Ailone recognized it as well. “You will attend me.” Ailone did not speak again until he had their attention. “Neaf, grant the other his sounds.” When Haspava had lips once again, they sneered at Kede. “You will attend me.” The Ailone hardly raised his voice, but Kede felt it rattle his bones. “You will hear me and you will follow this logic. The Doshans must choose between granting warriors equal status and being released from the Planetary Collective.”
Riskz sputtered. “You’ll remove us? On what terms? We have always adhered to the agreement.”
“And the agreement states a species may remain, providing they can defend themselves and the collective if ever called. Your warriors will abandon you if you do not grant them rights. If they abandon you, we will welcome them with open arms and let Dosha fend for itself. Those are your choices. Speak your truth.”
Riskz and Haspava glared at him, their stares searing, but he did not shy from their rage. His caste would not get what they desired by cowering. Warriors did not flee in the face of anger. No, they donned their blades and sliced through the fury.
“I must confer with the rest of the council.” Riskz spoke through gritted teeth.
“You speak as if they have not heard every word through your communications devices.” The Ailone was condescending and annoyed.
Riskz’s gaze went to Haspava and then returned to Kede. “We want to know who they’ve selected as High Warrior before we provide our decision.”
“Life does not follow your wants. You either welcome a High Warrior or we welcome their numbers. Choose.” The Ailone left no room for discussion.
Kede held his breath, fighting back the hope that threatened to consume his heart. Could they finally have lives to be proud of? Lives that included their very own harae and young? It would take time to convince females they were worthy, but to have the chance…
“We welcome the High Warrior and his knowledge of his warriors.” The message was tinged with the councilman’s ire, but his anger was inconsequential.
“Doshan Tria, name your High Warrior.”
Those were the words his Comm Commander needed.
The male strode forward, stopping in the middle of the ring and saluted Kede before focusing on the Ailone. “Ailone, I present the will of the warriors. Your access code will reveal our choice.”
He handed over the pad and retreated, leaving the Ailone alone in the center. “We should ask how you coded this to only release for us, but we are too intrigued to see who will change Dosha.”
Kede held his breath as the Ailone manipulated the comm pad. A soft tone sounded and then the Ailone huffed, his lips tightening in a smile. The male’s gaze met Kede’s for a brief moment and he felt his gut twist in a knot. Did that mean he would be forced to lead his caste? He would if it was the choice of the warriors, but he’d looked forward to a quiet life on the Vehly with Joyce at his side. He would remain on his “little ship” as Joyce called it, and raise his young.
Then the Ailone’s attention shifted to Joyce. Shifted to her and stayed there.
The air in his lungs escaped in a stirring rush. No. No, they couldn’t have…
The Ailone approached, his gait smooth, and the male handed the comm pad to his harae.
“The Planetary Collective welcomes Doshan High Warrior Joyce Enner Tria-se.”
And in true Joyce fashion, she responded with her first thought. “Fuck that noise.”